


first watch over our expanse

by wartimelovers



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Basically: Martin Gets Drunk and Jon Takes Him Safely Home, Christmas Party, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, He Has More Feelings Than He Lets People See, Inspired By the Events of MAG 161 AKA The Birthday Party, It's Soft, Jon Infodumps To Keep Others At Bay, Jon's Adventure In The Realm Of The Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, This Event Made Martin Realise He Cannot Drink At Work Functions, set somewhere in season 1, soft jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartimelovers/pseuds/wartimelovers
Summary: “Have you seen Elias?” Martin keeps slurring the words slightly and, even sat – or splayed maybe – on his chair, he seems to be swaying a little bit from side to side. “God, I hope he doesn’t see me like this. He’d lose that last bit of respect I hope he has… for me.”Jon doesn’t really bother replying. He grunts something in a noncommittal manner and stares down his glass of full-bodied dry – disgusting, really – red wine. Martin, unbothered, keeps swaying with purpose now, scanning the crowd intently. His eyes are half-closed. Jon almost smiles. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.And he’s still talking.or a brief description of the event that helped Martin realise he absolutely cannot have more than a sip of wine at a work function.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 48
Kudos: 463





	first watch over our expanse

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone :^) 
> 
> first off i wanna dedicate this to matt who listens to me when im wine drunk and just want soft jonmartin 
> 
> this is directly inspired by much thinking about how martin is a lightweight and a chatty drunk and how s1 jon isnt an asshole, he really cares, he just doesnt know how to show it. yeah
> 
> so yeah to be clear   
> 1 drink martin is tipsy and laughs a lot   
> 2 drinks martin is actually drunk (thinks jon is SO cute and is not afraid to say it)  
> 3 drink martin can fight a god provided he doesnt fall asleep first 
> 
> i hope you all like it!!!! please do let me know if you do and yeah!!

It’s only his second glass of wine and he feels rather warm and fuzzy. _This is why you shouldn’t drink_ , last rational part of his brain wants to scream at him, but it’s quickly drowned out by the other, louder part, which is promptly making obnoxious kissing noises.

Ah, yes, kissing. He can definitely think about that.

His eyes drift along the room full of people as he half-heartedly listens to whatever Tim and Sasha are talking about. Finally, he finds Jon. He’s sitting alone at the long table at the other side of the room. He looks so pretty, Martin thinks. So, so pretty. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt and the first two buttons are left open (a look which Tim has promptly christened Head Archivist 2: Party Edition) and tailored dark green trousers. His hair, which Martin noted he’s been letting grow longer, is not tied up like usual, instead tucked behind his ears, falling in gentle curls to his shoulders. He’s staring into middle distance, seemingly unfocused, giving Martin the perfect excuse to look at him. He just looks so cute, so sweet, and his eyes are just so—

“Martin!” He finally registers Tim saying and realises he must’ve called his name a few times now. “Martin, you do realise you’re talking, right?”

It’s the wine confidence spurring him on, really, but he doesn’t care. Not even as much as to blush.

“So what?” he says. “It’s the truth and I should say it. Have you seen him? He’s very cute.”

“Alright,” Sasha says and reaches over to take the bottle of rosé from in front of Martin.

“Well, of course it’s the truth,” Tim says before Martin has the chance to protest what Sasha’s doing. “Tell you what, mate, why don’t you go to him and tell him yourself?”

“Tim…” Sasha begins cautiously.

“Maybe I should,” Martin says. It really doesn’t seem that hard, now, just walk over and tell him he’s cute. And, uh, a bunch of other things maybe.

“What you should do is drink some water,” Sasha says firmly. Then, to Tim, “Just keep an eye on him. Do _not_ let him go over there if you know what’s good for you.” And with that, she’s gone.

“Yes, sir,” Tim exclaims. Him and Martin sit in silence for a while as he watches Martin watch Jon with what only can be described as literal heart eyes. Then, Laura from Research is standing right next to him, asking him to dance, and well, Martin’s a big boy, isn’t he, he can stand being on his own for a minute. Sasha should be back shortly.

It takes Martin a second to realise Tim’s gone and another second to remember the bottle Sasha previously took away but didn’t hide very well. He grabs it, pours himself some more, and turns back around to see Jon glancing up, checking his phone, then letting out a sigh. This might mean he’s leaving, and he absolutely cannot leave before Martin gets a chance to talk to him. Yes. Before he’s fully aware of what’s happening, he’s on his feet and walking over to Jon’s table.

Sasha and Tim arrive back where Martin should be a moment later, her with a big glass of cold water, him puffing and huffing from a _really_ good dance with that Laura. Both watch in what is almost scary slow motion as Martin approaches Jon’s table and almost falls over.

“I told you to watch him,” Sasha hisses.

“Yes, I know, but this is going to be so much more entertaining.”

“Prick.”

“There’s nothing we can do for him now, is there?”

Sasha sighs.

“Jon!” Martin exclaims. He comes to a still in front of the table, loses his balance slightly and ends up with one of his hands on the table for support. In the other he’s gripping a bottle of rose. Jon’s worried he’s going to drop it.

Thankfully, Martin sets it down in front of him. “Was wondering if you’d like some more wine?” He offers, gesturing to the half-empty bottle.

“No, thank you, Martin,” Jon replies, trying to keep annoyance out of his voice. Sasha did suggest he should be a little nicer to Martin and well, no time like Christmas to try, right? Or the Institute’s Christmas staff party, at least.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Martin says. “Don’t know why I thought you’d drink rosé. Silly me.” He’s silent for a while and Jon hopes he’s just going to go away, now, but instead Martin sits down next to him, his chair too close for Jon’s absolute comfort. He doesn’t move away, though.

“Have you seen Elias?” Martin keeps slurring the words slightly and, even sat – or splayed maybe – on his chair, he seems to be swaying a little bit from side to side. “God, I hope he doesn’t see me like this. He’d lose that last bit of respect I hope he has… for me.” 

Jon doesn’t really bother replying. He grunts something in a noncommittal manner and stares down his glass of full-bodied dry – _disgusting, really_ – red wine. Martin, unbothered, keeps swaying with purpose now, scanning the crowd intently. His eyes are half-closed. Jon almost smiles. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.

And he’s _still_ talking.

“Have you noticed Elias looks like one of these City boys? You know, you know, that kind who _always_ have a suit on and their features… kind of blend together?” Martin ponders this for a while, visibly worried Jon’s not getting his point. Well. Jon isn’t, really. Not that he’s trying to. “They’ll all have ashy blond hair and blue eyes and are all 5’7ft and acting like they’re not insecure about it and—”

At this, Jon glances over. Martin blushes deep red. “Oh, no, n-no. I don’t mean it… like that. Not that you would be, you, you know, like, uh, them, that is, like that. I think, _I think_ , you’re lovely, yeah. That is, wait, no. Oh, Jon, you _know_ what I mean!”

“Martin.” It’s Jon for _stop talking, please_.

“I mean the kind of Sharp Cheekbones Mr. McDouchebag The Third who hits on you in the bar, well, maybe not on me, I mean, I’m not exactly… but on you, maybe! And he’s d-doing that only to…”

“ _Martin_.” This one means _stop talking, now_. Somehow, Martin gets it.

“Sorry, Jon,” he stammers. “So, uh, yeah, have you seen Mr. McDouche- Elias! Have you seen _Elias_?”

“No.”

“Right.”

Jon hopes that’s the end of it. Instead, what follows, is one of these trademark heavy silences only Martin’s presence seems to bring about. He can feel Martin’s gaze on him, and he’s momentarily convinced of its sole focus, even in Martin’s drunken state. Martin’s looking, really looking at him, and Jon feels as if with that stare he’s burrowing into his mind like a worm. Like, by just looking, Martin really _knows_ him. A quick glance over confirms Martin is opening his mouth again and Jon shifts uncomfortably, turning slightly to face him.

“You know, that reminds me, I read this incredibly interesting essay about factory farming recently and…” Jon begins and truly hopes a few more gory details about poor animals suffering will be enough to drive Martin away, but, instead, what he gets is Martin propped up on his elbows, looking at him intently, obviously trying to follow what he’s saying like it’s the most beautiful homily. And, despite his initial plan, Jon gives in a few minutes into the lecture, because, actually, it _really was_ an interesting essay and it’s kind of nice to be able to talk to someone about it.

So, he goes on. From factory farming onto global warming and then production of quinoa and then back to the implications of raising animals for meat production in relation to global warming. And Martin is listening intently and making all the right affirming noises in all the right places and even gasps once, albeit with slight delay.

Jon only pauses some time later as he notices the crowd in the middle of the room is beginning to thin out. Martin is asleep on the table, chin still propped on one of his hands, and he’s leaning slightly onto Jon. Before he has any chance to think about what to do next, he spots Tim making his way through to the table. He’s dressed to leave already and drops Martin’s coat in front of them.

“Come on, boss, help him up. I’ll take him home.”

Jon thinks about it for a second. Glances to Martin’s sleeping form. Wishes he had more time to think. “No, that’s alright,” he says in the end. “Don’t worry, Tim. I’ll take him.”

Tim looks puzzled. He opens his mouth, once, twice, closes it. Finally, he says, “You’re not going to… kill him, are you?”

“ _No_ , Tim, but I might kill _you_.”

“Okay, okay, fine, whatever you want!” Tim holds up his hands and takes a step back. “I’ll text you his address. Just… make sure he gets home safe. The state of him.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Jon turns in his seat to face the issue at hand, which is actually getting Martin, who’s almost a foot taller than he is and a lot heavier, to stand up and walk to a cab somehow. “Uh, Tim?”

In the end, Tim puts Martin in his coat while Jon grabs his own and they somehow manoeuvre him down the corridors and even some stairs into the cold December air. Jon has half a mind to ask Tim to get them a cab as he’s trying to prevent Martin from falling over – Martin’s just really set on going back to sleep, even standing up – and Tim just shakes his head, pointing to a blue car already waiting by the kerb.

“Called you an Uber a while back. It’s an… app. Easier this way. With the address and all. He’ll know where to take you. And it’s paid for already.” He explains as they help Martin into the backseat.

_I know what a damn Uber is_ , Jon wants to say. He bites his tongue. “Thank you, Tim,” he says instead. “I’ll make sure to pay you back once—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tim says and winks, God only knows why. “So… Good night.”

“Good night.” Jon’s in the car already and he can feel Martin shifting in his seat. Tim turns to walk away and, before he can think better, Jon leans out one last time and says, “Have a good, uh. You know.”

Tim smiles. “Yeah. I know. You too.”

Turns out, with how little traffic there is in the middle of the night, they arrive at Martin’s flat quicker than Jon would’ve anticipated. Martin is, predictably, half asleep the whole ride, sometimes only mumbling something incomprehensible. Jon tries very hard not to pay him any more attention than he absolutely has to, which is not an easy thing to do, considering that with each passing minute Martin keeps on getting closer and closer, until he’s completely snug against Jon’s side, his head resting on Jon’s shoulder. He lets out a contented sigh. Even if Jon wants to rest his cheek against Martin’s hair, he doesn’t, turning his head instead to look at the seemingly peaceful lamp-lit streets of London.

It’s harder to get Martin out of the car without Tim’s help, but he manages. Martin’s flat turns out to be a lower ground level one in a sweet, albeit a little rundown Victorian conversion. He navigates down the narrow stairs carefully and promptly inside, fumbling for the light switch. The place is small and has some weird charm to it and it’s exactly like Jon would’ve expected. Slowly but steadily he gets Martin to the bed and sits him down. Martin’s half-awake now, eyes lazily tracing Jon’s movements as he helps him out of his coat and kneels down to take off his shoes. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.

Once Martin’s laid down under the covers, he turns around and begins looking for a bowl in the kitchen cupboards. He sets it down gently on the floor near where Martin’s head is resting on a very fluffy pillow. He looks fast asleep and his curly fringe is falling onto his closed eyelids. _Getting a bit too long, now_ , Jon can’t help but think, and, before he realises what he’s doing, he reaches down and brushes the strands away, his touch lingering a little longer.

Martin stirs a little and Jon is suddenly mortified. Takes his hand back like Martin’s skin is burning him.

“Thank you, Jon,” Martin says, his voice muffled. “Jon?”

“Yes, okay,” Jon replies. “Sleep, now.”

Martin moves a little bit more, nuzzling into his pillow, and just like that, he’s out. Jon double-checks if he’s safely on his side and, after some consideration, leaves a big glass of water on his nightstand. Then his eyes land on the armchair in the corner of the room.

_No_ , he tells himself, _Martin’s an adult and you… You’re not his babysitter_. He’s got more of this, he’s good at repressing whatever he doesn’t want to feel, really, and he keeps convincing himself as he turns the lights off and leaves quietly. He texts Tim to ask if he could check on Martin in the morning, _a text is enough, really_ , and finally gets himself into his own Uber home. If he looks back to Martin’s door twice before getting in, no one needs to know.

***

They’re fully back in the Institute on January 2nd. None of them has really spoken to each other over the break, not to Jon at least. Last he heard was Tim texting him in the morning after the party to let him know Martin was okay, although apparently grumpy and cursing them for letting him drink so much. Jon replied “Ok.” and that was that.

But now they’re all back. Tim’s in a great mood, has already shown him two memes, also explaining what a meme is each time, and by this point Jon is almost certain he knows that Jon knows, he just likes to take the piss. Sasha’s quiet and competent and asks him if he wants to take his lunchbreak with her and she smiles kindly sometimes as they mostly eat in silence. And Martin’s… Martin. The day progresses as normal, statement is read, some follow up is done, and by the early afternoon Jon comes out of his office into the common area of the archives, where the three of his assistants reside. Then, he almost collides with Martin, who’s carrying four mugs of tea, only ducking to the left in the last moment.

Martin immediately looks mortified and opens his mouth to start apologising profusely, but Jon shakes his head and takes two of the mugs from his hands instead.

“Oh, thank you,” Martin says and gives him a bright smile. From behind him Jon can see Tim raising an eyebrow in question and Jon shots him a look that he hopes conveys something along the lines of _I’m not a complete monster, you know_.

Jon sets down the extra mug in front of Sasha, mumbles his quiet thank-you in the general direction of Martin and turns to leave to get back to his office, when he’s stopped by the shy murmur of his name.

He stops and turns, inches away from the safety of his office, and watches as Martin walks up to him. He’s fiddling with his sweater’s sleeve and bites down on his lower lip. He sighs, opens his mouth, closes it again. Jon feels the prickle of annoyance and then something else entirely.

“Yes, Martin?”

“So, Jon, I know that’s not really important and I’m probably wasting your time, but Tim’s been acting like a prick—”

“What else is new?”

Martin huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah. Anyway, I-I… was wondering, God, this is embarrassing, if you knew how I got home after the staff party? Tim’s refusing to tell me for whatever reason and it’s eating away at me, really.”

Behind Martin, somewhat to the right, Tim’s giving him thumbs up and grinning like an idiot. Jon might really have to kill him. Instead, he focuses back on Martin and his incredibly worried expression.

“You know what?” He says loud, for everyone to hear. “I think it _was_ Tim. Yes, I’m pretty sure I saw him trying to walk you outside and it _didn’t_ look easy. And then he called you one of these… you know, app-cabs. Uber? Yes, anyway. I left shortly after you did.”

Tim looks really puzzled. Jon hopes he won’t say anything.

“Wha—What? Why didn’t he say anything, then?”

“I don’t know?” Jon offers. “Probably wanted to convince you that… a-a giant ghost spider took you home and then laid eggs in your closet. You know how Tim is.”

“Yeah, you got me, boss,” Tim says, and his voice is flat. Calculating.

“Oh, okay, then, heh,” Martin replies and turns to sit on the edge of his desk. He looks content for a second and then a mortified look crosses his face like a shadow. “Wait. I didn’t say anything stupid to you, then, did I?”

In the background, Tim snorts. Martin turns to him as if to scold him but turns back promptly as Jon begins to speak.

“No, don’t worry, you didn’t,” he reassures him. “In fact, I hardly even saw you at all.” Silence follows. Martin gives him a weak smile and nods. “Right, so if that’s all…” Jon trails off and hurries back into his office. Before the door closes behind him properly, he can hear Tim whisper rather loudly.

“See, I told you he doesn’t know what an Uber is.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :^) 
> 
> if you wanna yell about soft jonmartin too you can message me on tumblr.com @ wartimelovers 
> 
> kudos and comments are so appreciated. i WILL love you forever x


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